


Dream Jobs

by AlonzoTheEboy



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: M/M, Nothing too graphic just a small pole and lap dance, Stripper AU, Stripper!Skimbleshanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlonzoTheEboy/pseuds/AlonzoTheEboy
Summary: Munkustrap indulges in a little red stripper in a strip club.
Relationships: Munkustrap/Skimbleshanks (Cats)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	Dream Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> \+ = Time skip

Dark streets and an even darker mood plagued Munkustrap as he shuffled his feet. He had to get home and go to bed. No, he  _ needed  _ to do that. Going to bed meant truly ending the day and whether or not it meant he’d be starting a worse one wasn’t up to him. What was up to him was just getting the old one over with. He had had enough of it. 

That’s when he heard it. The sound of his shoes clicking against the ground was suddenly interrupted as a flute swelled into his ears. His sight was blinded from the left as the lights of a building took up his attention, forcing him to turn and look at the bright red building.

**_Dream Jobs_ **

The sign blinked at him for a good minute until his eyes drew down to the fine print. 

It was a strip club. The doors closed but the sign telling him it was open and ready to take him into another world entirely where his bad day would be far behind him. No more spilled coffee, or stolen lunch, or losing promotions. Just… Whatever stripper in there that he decided to take a liking to.

If he went in there at all of course. 

+++++

There he was. In the middle of a strip club. Smoke was coming from somewhere and yet it had no smell. Everything was painfully illuminated to give everyone the best yet worse lighting imaginable and it looked as if ghosts were wandering vicariously, sitting near a bar that cut you off after only two drinks and lounging in chairs around tables that in turn surrounded either a walkway with poles at the end or a small stage with a pole sticking out of the center. 

The poles were being used of course. Munkustrap should have realized the club had a theme by the name of the establishment and yet it had slipped his mind until a nurse dancing alongside a waitress on one of the walkways. The clubbers were mixed in gender so Munkustrap didn’t feel too awkward about being there, and the dancers were also a mix. An army sergeant with a uniform that was  _ way  _ out of regulation on account that it had no pants and just a jockstrap caught Munkustrap’s eye immediately. It was when the sergeant glanced at him that Munkustrap turned away and realized exactly what kind of place he was at. A shyness overtook him, and he kept his head down until he reached the bar, becoming one of the many ghosts that haunted the place.

The bartender slid a drink to him, and he gladly sucked it down. He needed to loosen up. The entire point of a strip club was to look so why was he so scared of it? Too attached to outside morals? The fact that the situation seemed so taboo?

He cringed, sipping his drink once again. Alcohol coated his lips uncomfortably and he needed to stop acting like he was doing something illegal and just chill. This was a public establishment, not a warehouse being used by slave traders. Munkustrap took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts and finishing his drink with one final swig. 

He stood and immediately stopped in his tracks. Whether it was because one of the strippers was dressed like a cop and it freaked him out slightly, or because of the flash of red coming from one of the back poles was only somewhat of a mystery to Munkustrap. All he remembers from that night was the outcome.

The slight buzz he had acted as a radar, slowly thumping against his skull gently, guiding him towards the back of the house. It was darker. You couldn’t see two steps in front of you but by god, you could see the dancers. The darkness allowed the lights that circled the small stages to illuminate brightly and almost put a glowing effect on the dancer. Munkustrap turned his head, feeling the thumping in his skull as he did, and found himself right in front of a stage.

It was as if a red streamer was billowing in the wind on a summer night, the sky dark but the porchlight bright. A sense of familiarity and nostalgia washed over Munk as he watched the dancer lazily hang from the pole, holding onto it with one hand as it spun him around. Red hat, red suspenders, red pants. All of it complimented by the prominent white chest and chiseled arms that seemed to breathe as he flexed them, curving his body as he allowed himself more slack before tensing and pulling himself back, wrapping his leg around the pole and gliding gracefully with it.

Munkustrap could almost describe it as hypnotizing.

The red stripper’s leg slid down the pole smoothly, dropping to his knees just as a firefighter grabbed the pole for his turn. Whatever profession the red stripper had was a mystery to Munk. Mostly because he wasn’t focusing too much on the outfit. The man crawled forward to the edge of the small stage. A man off to the side stuck a few twenties between the suspenders and his skin. Taking his hat off, the stripper playfully offered for the man to put the money in, which he did with a chuckle that was almost lost in the soft jazz that played through the many speakers hidden from view. Munk felt himself fumble for his wallet, absent-mindedly taking whatever bills he had out and watching as the stripper made his way around to him. 

Red, Munkustrap decided to call him, crawled cat-like, pulling himself forward until he was face to face with Munk who held a fifty in his shaking hand. He offered it outright, almost handing it to him to take. Red didn’t take it like that though. Instead, he leaned forward, opening his mouth and snapping it shut on the money. His mustache brushed against Munkustrap’s thumb as he pulled the money away and continued to crawl away. Munkustrap could still feel his hot breath against his hand as he watched Red crawl away, already knowing that he’d spend whatever he had to get a dance from him.

Munkustrap felt like a stalker. Just watching Red’s every movement as he gazed at other men with the same intensity he had given Munkustrap. It made him feel like a simp when a pang of jealousy washed over his heart like a blanket before squeezing, suffocating him. His legs moved stiffly, following Red as stood and walked along the catwalk that connected two of the stages. He watched as Red grabbed an empty pole and spun suddenly, turning his back to the pole and sliding down, his leg stretching out before pulling itself back in as he rose. He jumped, wrapping both legs around the pole and gaining momentum, letting himself lean back and spread his legs as he spun. His grip had to have been iron, his hands being the only thing keeping him from falling. In an ambitious move, his legs fell back all the way, his feet landing onto the stage and his arms twisted, still hanging onto the pole. 

He let go, had one last turn, and finally hopped from the stage, standing face to face with Munkustrap who felt the wind being knocked from him even though he had never been touched, let alone hit. 

Red looked at him like he expected something. Like he’d seen Munkustrap a hundred times and this was routine. Munkustrap swallowed deeply, not knowing if he was supposed to ask, how to ask, or if he would even get an answer. With a deep breath, Munkustrap fished his wallet out and counted his money. How much was he supposed-?

Red snatched the money from him before cocking his head, signaling for Munk to follow him. The hypnotizing had worked. He walked like a zombie, following the sauntering stripper. Everything had dulled. The music, the lights, his senses. All of it was fading like a distant memory as he entered a hallway and passed a large man in sunglasses. It was already indoors and not to mention dark so Munk didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all. The man pointed to a small sign as Munk felt himself being dragged by an invisible line connected to Red. 

**No Touching**

Munkustrap would never think of it. He’d have a heart attack if he did.

There was no door. Just a room with curtains draped over the walls and a chair. Red had his hand resting on the back of it, beckoning Munk to have a seat. New music filtered in slowly, mimicking Munk’s senses as he was suddenly able to see clearer, hear the smallest of things like Red’s lips smack as he opened his mouth to sigh. Munk sank into the seat like a stone. He placed his hands on the armrests and squeezed, not trusting himself already.

Red’s hand slipped from the chair and he made his way to the front of Munkustrap’s vision. His lean body came into full view as he dropped down. His body rolled, his chest and abdomen snake-like before he twisted around and let Munk get a good look at how tight his pants actually were. His ass was practically vacuumed sealed, leaving little to the imagination. Munkustrap was just fine with that, knowing his mind was too muddled to think anything at all. 

He felt like he should ask for a name at least. It felt strange to have a stranger being so sexual. Might it not be so bad to have a name to the stranger? 

Munk mentally scolded himself. Even if he did ask, the stripper wouldn’t give his real name. It would be as true as Red. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a long leg bending next to his head. Red thumbed along the seems of his pants before resting his foot right behind Munk’s shoulder. It made him nervous, like they were pushing the rules just a bit too much. Red’s other leg was brushing against Munk’s, who quickly closed his legs and tried to take up as little space as possible as the man above him acted like water, flowing into every crevice and rising diligently, threatening to drown Munkustrap. 

Munkustrap had managed to keep his dignity so far but it was slowly slipping from him. His hands itched to touch the pale skin as it danced in front of him. Composure was slowly being drained from him, feeding the stripper that seemed to glow brighter every time Munk thought of slipping. To just reach up, to maybe throw away his dignity entirely and ask him out for dinner. Then they’d go back to his place and have another dance, except there would be no touching rule, no guard or anything. Not even a time limit.

Which was sadly up.

The music drained along with Munk’s energy. His face was flushed and he gasped for air as Red gave him room to breathe. A smile formed across Munkustrap’s lips as he watched Red leave the room, turning back just to wink at him in a tease that will never be followed up. The only thing keeping the crushing reality that he would never see Red again was a revelation. 

He was dressed as a train conductor. 

Choo choo.

**Author's Note:**

> im so tired. goodnight, i love all of u


End file.
